Love from a Distance
by HowlingMisfit
Summary: Hector's afterlife through the eyes of someone who cared about him just a little too much for her own good. VERY one sided Hector/OC


**Love from a Distance**

Summery: Hector's afterlife through the eyes of someone who cared about him a just little too much for her own good.

Very, very, VERY one sided Hector/OC

 **A/N** : Really loving the Coco Fandom. So I'll be pretty heartbroken if you start throwing shoes at me for what I'm about to give you.

 **Also, please note that I absolutely adore Imelda (I still giggle when I think about the 'devil box') this is just the POV of someone who is looking in from the outside. I don't even have a name for this character. If I write more of her I'll give her a name. We'll see what happens.**

...

 **Love from a Distance**

She died on June 6th, 1965. She was a groupie with a small traveling band, murdered by her now ex boyfriend with a piano wire.

She was never that close to her family, so when she gotten the first chance to ditch them at the ripe old age of 19. She took it. She didn't last a month until her life was cut short, left on the side of the road somewhere in Mexico. Far away from home, far away from anyone who cared about her.

She wasn't aware of the rules of the dead, or why her photo was so important. But she learned soon enough, and that's how she eventually ended up in Shantytown. All alone, surrounded by friendly, but still unfamiliar faces. Her memories often kept her company despite her best efforts to just forget. The petty fights with her siblings. The family farm and the welcoming smells of her mothers cooking Her great aunt telling her wild stories from her youth. To even those few weeks of fighting and disagreements between family members before she left. She wanted to go to college, they wanted her to be a housewife. In the end she chose neither, and she left without looking back. She could still hear her fathers voice shouting at her, telling her if she walks out that front door, then she should never come back. She still left.

But isn't that what she wanted? To be far away from her very conservative family. Making her way up the beautiful landscape that could only really belong to Mexico. Maybe even taking a passionate and experienced lover that would teach her things that she would never have known back in the states.

And she got that, sort of. In a way.

She met Hector at the end of her first week in Shantytown. She had been withdrawn and planned on doing so indefinitely, until Hector in his wonderful Hector way practically kicked down the barely constructed door. Cheerfully greeting her and welcoming her to this strange new place she has to call home.

She learned quickly here that the people of Shantytown tend to stick together as an impromptu family unit, with Hector deciding to assign himself to her to make her feel more comfortable because she must be so scared to be alone out here (and she was). Because that's what he does, he helps people, and she was no exception.

She eventually learns that Hector was a musician in life, and how he died tragically trying to get home. Food poisoning? Yeash, what a way to go. But what was worse is that he wouldn't stop talking about his beloved famila. Great. Not only was she stuck with yet another musician, but a family man as well. Him talking about his old home probably was the worst part, as it made her pretty homesick for the first time that she died.

So she held onto the memory of her old bed, and how her mother would call up the stairs when she had made breakfast. The sound of her siblings feet running across the wooden floors and racing down the stairs. That loud, booming voice that could only belong to her father. How the rain used to gently tap against her bedroom window.

...

For the next five years, she and Hector began to grow closer. He was grateful to have a friend to help him on his more elaborate schemes to cross the flower bridge and she was happy for the distraction. Since being dead wasn't as cracked up to be, but then again anyone and their cat could've told her that. Sure, there was life after death, and that's wonderful and all. But now she has to continue to live with her mistakes. At least she had someone to lean on, as opposed to being completely alone as she originally planned to be.

...

One day Hector finally asked about the piano wire that was wrapped around her spine. Which had been there since she arrived like some gruesome necklace and she didn't have the strength to take it off. Touching it felt too real for her and to remove it meant that she would finally accept her death, which she hadn't despite the fact that she was aware that she was very, very dead. She told him the truth, but joked that her ex always been a cheap man and the piano wire was no exception.

Instead of laughing, he just frowned at her. "That's not very funny." He had said. "I would be devastated if I was murdered by someone I was supposed to trust."

She finally broke down then, and she actually lets him hold her for the rest of the night. She didn't know how much she needed her new friend until he was the only thing that reminded her that yes, she may be a victim, but she is still a person and she can't let her death define her. That even if her murderer got away with it in life. He definitely won't get away with it here. Hector would hold him down and she'll go for his kneecaps.

...

In the very small hovel that they shared, there was only one very old mattress that had a ton of very sharp springs sticking out of it. On it's own it was unbearable to lay on. But Hector managed to find some pretty thick blankets to put on top of it. It was the pinnacle of luxury here in Shantytown. She was grateful for it, she didn't even mind that she had to share it with her friend. They were practically attached at the hip at this point and she had no problem with curling up with him. At first she was annoyed with how cuddly he was when he sleeps, but she learns to appreciate it when some nights were just a little too cold to be comfortable. The memory of the warmth of her old home being too distant.

Sometimes, when sleep was too difficult to achieve after a more gruesome day, they would just lay there and tell each other stories about when they were alive. She'd tell him about the farm she grew up on and he would tell her about his daughter and wife. This would go on well into the night until they finally find some sleep.

...

It was in the spring of 1970 when Hector heard of the good news. Imelda is here! Ah yes, the illustrious Imelda. The perfect Imelda, the wonderful and beautiful and fiery Imelda. It was clear that Hector was still so enamored with his long lost wife. It would be heartwarming, if she still had a heart that is.

She watched as Hector picked up his guitar and ran out with a brief goodbye. So that was it? She lived with this man for 5 years. 5 years of friendship, of being there for each other during the cold nights. Of days cleaning and rebuilding their little corner of Shantytown when their roof decided to collapse into the water below. Evenings of music and dancing and drinking. Tears spilt, broken hearts comforted and attempted to be repaired.

She knew she shouldn't feel angry at him. He had spent most of his time here missing his family. That's what they all wanted here, to go home. To go to their family and belong somewhere.

But what about the people who don't have a family anymore?

Later that night, she had gotten her answer. She honestly thought that Hector was going to leave and never return. It may have been better if he had. Instead he returned, a complete wreck with only the neck of his guitar in his hand. She stood up, dropping the bundle of fabric that she had been trying and failing to repair. "Hector?" She found her voice. "What happened...?"

That night she held him tight as he cried himself to sleep. Imelda happened, his wife didn't even give him a chance to explain what happened to him, she just threw him away like he was trash. Told him to never return, that this was not his family anymore.

But she was shocked to hear that Hector was the one who smashed his guitar. Why would he do that? That guitar was his prized possession, or really his only possession. Music was all that he had left. The only thing that can bring him out of some of his darker moods, the thing that helped their friendship grow. All gone, he blamed music for loosing his wife, and loosing his family. Therefore, he'll play no more music. Even though he had nothing else to lose, might as well cut the final string that held him together.

If Imelda was so great and wonderful, and they were so much in love, why didn't his wife want to anything to do with him? He told her once that this Imelda woman was the love of his life, and that he'll be whole again once they're reunited. Guess that doesn't translate well in death. (Like how she thought her boyfriend was the love of her life too. Look how that ended up. Now she's sharing a dingy old mattress with another heartbroken soul.)

She was raised not to judge people at face value, and she did not know Imelda at all, but she couldn't help but to not like this woman. It was clear that Hector still did. So she'll just dislike her enough for the both of them.

...

Their friendship continued to grow from there, and slowly a part of her began to want something a little more. She kept quiet though. Despite technically being single now, Hector still remained painfully dedicated to Imelda and his family. So he kept trying to see her, to tell her that he wanted to go home. But she just kept turning him away. It didn't stop him though, and his schemes to get her to listen became to grow a little more desperate, like crossing that dumb flower bridge and finding tape strong enough to hold his broken bones together after a few failed attempts that turned into complete disasters.

It was a sweet sentiment. But she existed too, she was always there for him like he was for her. Sometimes she had to resist the urge to grab him by the arms, shake him and shout. "Notice me! I'm here! I'll always be here for you! Aren't I enough?" Then cover him in kisses because this poor man deserves all the kisses and she's definitely up for the job.

She was there when the whole chorizo debacle started up. Hector was of course angry about it, it was food poisoning! But no matter how much he corrects his peers, they wouldn't listen. Sure, chocking on a chorizo (especially after she learned what a chorizo was) is funny in theory. But despite their state of existing now and how life just seems to just resume, death isn't something to tease someone with. That was just cruel, and it only cemented Hector's growing distaste for musicians and deepening his own personal ban on music itself. (Which at first was something he wanted to do to show his wife that he'll change for her, to do anything to get her back, but then he turned just as sour.) She learned a long time ago that death was no longer allowed to be joked about, yet it was the people who were still loved by their family who just didn't get the hint. Death still comes to even the most well loved.

...

So their afterlife continued on, she stayed back in Shantytown when Hector would go to Frida Kahlo's studio. She would sometimes join him on his trips to the Art District of course. But she hated how the others would look at her, she can handled being judged (she had dealt with it all her life) but sometimes those looks would be of pity, and she hated that the most. Some of her better days was when she and Hector would go on their little misadventures somewhere else. Even in death, both of their need to explore and cause general mischief was insatiable. They were adventurers at heart, and it was during these days where she could trick herself into believing that this would last forever.

...

Years continued to march on. Her bones were beginning to look more like Hector's, loose and discolored. She was devastated, she knew that her family was mad at her. But she didn't expect that they would try to forget her too. Did her father truly meant his words that she wouldn't be welcomed back home? In life she couldn't care less what they thought of her, she wouldn't go back anyway. But she had decades to think and mature and she realized just how wrong she was to abandon her family. What she wouldn't give to be in their good grace again, but it was far too late for her.

They were both aware that the Final Death would come eventually. So they would often joke (but also promised) that they'll fade away together at the same time. So neither of them would be alone again. The promise invoked the memory of her Grandmother being surrounded by her family on her deathbed, except for her. She loved her Grandma even though they didn't get along most of the time, but she just couldn't say goodbye. She regrets that now. She wonders if she's still here, would she even want to see her?

...

She didn't know when these strange feelings began to grow stronger. Had she just notice how warm his hands were despite being nothing but bone? Or when he gave her a friendly side hug it left her body tingling for more? Chicharron would often joke to her about if Hector ever thought of remarrying, she would be the first in line. She'd smack him, of course. (Even though it'll make him laugh harder.) Because how dare he suggest such a silly notion. The idea of Hector moving on from his heartbreak, bah. He's still an artist at heart, they live on misery. (What's next? Flying priests? Imelda actually forgiving him? The nerve.)

When she was younger, she often dreamt of her wedding day. She would be surrounded by her family and her favorite flowers. Her dress would have a chapel train and she'll wear a tiara because she wanted to feel like a princess. After the wedding he'll put on his leather jacket and they'll climb on his motorcycle and they would ride off into the sunset.

Standing beside her was always some tall, faceless man. Because he would never really matter. As she gotten older, he would've been some celebrity or a boy at school she had a crush on. But now, especially after Hector showed him an old photo of himself ("See? I told you I was muy guapo, eh?") That's all she would see and she hated herself for that. He's her best friend AND he still considered himself a married man for Christ's sake. Get a grip. He's not that cute.

Though the thought of Hector wearing a leather jacket and riding a motorcycle would make her genuinely laugh. Hector would have the confidence to rock the jacket but he was just too flimsy to be able to handle a real heavy duty motorcycle. Especially now. His head would probably pop off.

Though the mental image of them alive, him lifting her veil. Tilting her chin up so he could kiss her made her feel all warm and tingly inside, but most importantly it made her confused. Or she's in denial. Or both. She couldn't tell and it made her dizzy.

...

It was the year 2017 when things either gotten better or worse. Depending on the person. Hector disappeared early in the morning like he always did in preparation for his latest attempt to cross the bridge. So she woke up alone. Which was fine, she had things to repair today, mostly to keep herself distracted. To pretend that she hadn't noticed his rapidly weakening bones, or those faint whips of gold dust just out of the corner of her eye. He's running out of time. They're running out of time. (Hector blames himself for being dumb enough to leave in the first place, she naturally blames Imelda because he's been punished enough in her opinion. In a way they're both right.) Chicharron wasn't looking too good himself, so she'll have to check on him later. To make sure that he was continuing to be the same grumpy old man. So she knows that her family isn't fading, and she wouldn't be left alone again. Until she was eventually forgotten too and the thought left her feeling colder.

When Hector never returned around the usual time, she had naturally assumed the worst. She knew he wasn't locked away for the holiday, Hector could charm his way out of quicksand. So either he actually succeeded, or was too embarrassed to come back.

Or he...

She pushed the thought out of the way. Like she does with everything else, her murder, her continuing frustration that comes with slowly being forgotten, her confusing emotions for her friend.

So when she was invited along with some other neighbors to sneak into the Sunrise Spectacular, of course she took it. She was never a particular fan of Ernesto de la Cruz, something which Hector had found very satisfying for some odd reason, something that he still refuses to talk about. So she would usually stay behind with Hector while he sulked after yet another failure to cross over. Which she found that his brooding face was adorable, though she didn't have the heart to mock him for it.

But he wasn't here, as he was off doing whatever Hector does, and hopefully not fading away in some dark alley all cold and alone.

She should be looking for him, but Hector is good at disappearing and can make himself very difficult to be found if he wanted to. Plus, he would be home by now if he intended to come back. Sometimes he would just stay out all night after a more humiliating failure. She had told him about the Frida Kahlo costume, he did it before. Six times actually. He probably doesn't want to hear her nag at him. Yeah, that's it.

...

She found herself enjoying the show, smushed together between her neighbors. Well hidden away yet she could still see everything on the stage and on the monitors. She was glad that she came to the show, it was proving to be a better distraction than she originally thought. It has been so long since she had been to a legit concert and it brought back happier memories of a time long gone. She doesn't remember who she went to see back then, but her and her friends managed to sneak in through the back door. It was a miracle that they were never caught. It was probably one of the best nights when she was younger.

But something didn't feel right as the show went on. There, rising up on the platform was not this Ernesto fellow that she thought should be there, but a woman. Though there was something about her that was painfully familiar. Someone that she should know and it was starting to really bother her. But then she saw it, the camera that projected the show on the screen caught a glimpse at it. She had a photograph in her hand, an image that she was familiar with. It was Hector's photo. How did she get that picture?

Wait, is this Imelda? No, it couldn't be. She knew that Imelda hated music, and dancing and especially Hector. But something inside of her told her that it is. So this was the wonderful Imelda? She felt hopeless, how could she be so stupid? To even think that she could compete with that?

She looked away from the stage, biting her knuckle as her nerves began to rattle her bones. Imaginary tears burning in the back of her eye sockets.

It was when the screens turned back on, and she heard that horrific murder confession that she had to be silenced by the people around her. They're still hiding, and they don't want to be caught. At least, not yet. Not until they knew that Hector was okay.

So she watched, she watched that evil man throw that boy off the ledge, watched Hector collapse in a shimmer of gold light. Watched as he had given up his chance to see his daughter for his great-great grandson's life. She knew that he was a father, but it never dawned on her that he could be someones grandfather too.

After the boy left, the cameras remained on them for only a few minutes, and she slowly felt anger slowly bubble up inside of her. That was supposed to be her up there! She was the one who was always there for him when he was at his lowest. He was apart of her life far longer than this Imelda woman now (for 52 years to be exact) yet this woman was the one to hold him close. To comfort him in his final moments.

Meanwhile she was the one there for those long, cold and lonely nights with him. She held him as what hopes to be with his wife and family slowly crumbled into almost nothing and yet he still remained in denial. She was there to see not only Hector's best but to witness when he was at his ugliest. Yet here she was stuck down here, watching the only person that she had really, truly cared about slowly fade away. Realization soon dawned on her, and she felt it slowly constricting her neck.

She was in love with him.

She was in love with a man who will only see her as a friend, who still clearly loves his wife. She will never know what it would be like for him to hold her close romantically, to kiss her, to truly love her. Hector would never belong to her, and after this night she might not even see him again. Even if he survives, he wouldn't want to go back to Shantytown, no sane person would. Not when he has his real family now.

She glared up at the image of Imelda on the screen, but she couldn't find it in herself to fully hate her. Hector wanted this so badly. He just wanted to be with them. To be with her. How can she even think that he would want to be anywhere else.

She looked away again when the gold light faded away leaving Hector intact. She didn't want to see them embrace each other. She was grateful to have the screens finally offline.

...

She watched him slowly gather the few things that he owns, he's happier now. The happiest that she had ever seen, and she was happy for him. Even though she just felt hallow inside.

"So, you and Imelda are really back together now?" She asked. He paused, turning to shrug at her.

"Well, we're taking it slow, you know?" He laughed, turning back to finish packing. "Very, very slow. But I couldn't be happier. She's actually listening to me now. She's actually giving me a chance."

She smiled, even though she felt bitterness build up inside of her. What's so different now? The point was that he still tried to come home, was an accident not tragic enough for Imelda? What if it was food poisoning? Or he was hit by a bus? Or fell off a building? (Or strangled by piano wire?) Would she had let him come home? He just wanted to go home.

(Like how she just wanted to go home.)

Hector finished packing his bag, and she just covered herself with a sheet. Like she always does when she too embarrassed or ashamed to look at anyone. Hector had called it 'playing ghost' even if they were ghosts. She didn't want to see Hector leave, she didn't want to have that memory of him walking out the door. Like how she walked out, her sister calling to her to come back. (Please don't go. Please.)

She heard the clank of a suitcase and footfalls on the sheets of wood that made up the floor. Even hidden away, she could still see his hands on his hipbones. "You're not going to say goodbye? I thought I was your mejor amigo?"

This was her last chance, she could tell him how she feels about Imelda. To tell him how much she loves him, how him leaving would destroy her. To convince him to stay and move on with his afterlife now that he has more time. How he can just be friends with Imelda and still be a part of that family, have his cake and eat it too. (Please don't go, I love you, I love you, I love you.)

"If..." She began, trying to keep her voice steady. Even though it was useless because Hector could read her like a book, even hidden away under a sheet. "If things don't... work out, like you want it to. Just know that... you have a home here. With all of us... With me." (So please don't go. Don't leave me here.) "But good luck, I'm happy for you."

There was silence outside of her protective sheet. She wondered if Hector had already left. She tried to say the right thing because when you care about someone, you just want them to be happy. Right? If that happiness means that Hector leaves forever. Than that's fine. Right? Right..?

There was shuffling, and she could feel him kneel in front of her. She kept her eyes shut when felt the sheet being lifted off her head and finger tips gently tilting her chin up. She then felt something brush up against her painted lips, the sensation was short and sweet. Her eyes snapped open to see some of the decorative face carvings that belonged to Hector. It wasn't a proclamation of undying love, it was a kiss goodbye for something that was almost tangible, but she had also gotten his other message. She could feel it warm her bones and it left her whole. (His kiss said thank you, thank you, thank you for everything you have done for me, my old friend, thank you for letting me go home.)

He pulled back much too soon and smiled, affection sparkling behind those eyes that she had grown to adore. He then left, giving her a nod and a wave, she had returned the gesture wholeheartedly. She didn't feel so hallow anymore. Not even after he was long gone, the promise to visit her and that of course he won't forget his friend echoing in her skull. Not feeling as empty as she thought she would even as things grew silent except for the rushing of water and the distant chattering of neighbors.

She still felt his kiss, even after she curled up on her bed. Finger tips gently pressed against her mouth. He's home now, and for a brief moment he had brought her home too.

It was more than enough to stay warm.

End.


End file.
